Sitting on the little balcony above our apartment in Soller, I looked out over the sun-splashed Mallorcan landscape and sipped a small glass of local brandy.
"Pat," I said, "my head is completely empty."
Far from being a worrisome condition, I realised that this was a very desirable state. In the weeks before flying out to Mallorca, my head was full of
stuff: worries about money, things that needed doing in the house, the way my work was heading, ... just
stuff. And now here I was recognising the absence of all that stuff. Where it all went, who can say, but it had gone and for the two weeks we spent ambling around in fantastic sunshine, my head remained happily empty.
What this inevitably meant was that I did no work in my sketchbooks, so for now I have nothing to show you; but I've mentioned recently that I felt my ways of working were becoming stale and now I can sense the seeds of new ideas settling into the welcoming emptiness of my brain.
In a little while I suspect my long-awaited shake-up may make itself felt. Could be fun.
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